


With Friends Like This ...

by Ytteb



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21648628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: Tony has a visitor - and things are not straightforward.  Gibbs may have to put his investigator's hat on.  All the team involved.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 92
Collections: 2019 NCIS Secret Santa Gift Exchange





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dont_hate_me01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_hate_me01/gifts).



Special Agent Jethro Gibbs clicked on the email attachment Abby Sciuto had sent him. As the grainy CCTV footage began to play, he understood the reason for the tears on Abby’s face when she had told him to break the habit of a lifetime and open an email.

Gibbs saw a tall man walk a little shakily down a deserted alleyway toward the camera. And then he saw Special Agent Tony DiNozzo step out of the shadows and, after a moment’s hesitation, fire a shot at the other man. The hours spent on the firing range meant that Gibbs’ team, and Tony in particular, were good shots, so it was no surprise that the shot hit home. As the man toppled to the ground Gibbs found himself divided between admiring Tony’s expertise in going for a solid body shot and his worry about how he could prove that Tony was innocent. Gibbs wanted to believe that his Senior Field Agent hadn’t just killed someone in cold blood, but it was hard in the face of the evidence of his own eyes.

Gibbs’ hand fell off the mouse leaving the CCTV footage playing. Gibbs wasn’t watching however; his mind had drifted to the previous week when life had been what passed for normal for the MCRT.

PREVIOUSLY

“What’s wrong with you?” asked Tim McGee when he looked up from his desk and saw Tony trying to slip in unobserved.

“Nothing,” said Tony, “At least according to my mother who thought I was absolutely perfect in every way.”

“Huh,” said Tim, “And what about less _biased_ observers than your mom?”

“I guess you could say that some people have discerned some _small_ faults … but …”

“OK,” said Ellie Bishop, “I get … I _really, really_ get all the splendour that is DiNozzo …”

“My mother thanks you … or she would if she wasn’t dead,” replied Tony with an attempt at a courtly bow, “Ow!”

“But,” continued Ellie, “That wasn’t what Tim meant. What he _meant_ was is anything _physically_ wrong with you?”

“ _We already know the answer to whether there’s anything mentally wrong,”_ muttered Tim.

Tony scowled at Tim. Whatever else was wrong, his hearing seemed unimpaired. “And is there a _reason_ for this enquiry?” he asked loftily.

“Mostly that you’re walking like a crippled crab,” said Gibbs brutally as he marched into the squad room.

Tony made an airy gesture, “And what does a crippled crab look like when it walks?” he asked with the manner of one who made a telling point.

“You,” said Gibbs with continued brutality.

“Ah,” said Tony, “Ah … well, I will confess to being a little stiff this morning …”

“You know you’re not supposed to … supposed to … _on a school night_ ,” finished McGee unable to put into words what he was trying _not_ to picture that Tony had been doing to make himself stiff.

Tony leered at him. For a moment Tim thought it possible he was going to get a blow by blow account of the previous night’s activities and he wasn’t sure whether to be excited or terrified. “Relax, McGoodytwoshoes,” said Tony abandoning the pursuit of such easy prey, “I was … moving furniture around.”

“Oh,” Tim relaxed back into his chair, “Oh, I guess that makes sense.”

“As opposed to what?” demanded Tony.

“Pretty much everything you say,” said Tim frankly.

Ellie jumped into the conversational breach before Tony could think of a reply, “Why are you moving furniture? Ooh, are you thinking of moving?”

Tony opened his mouth to reply but, before he could do so, Ellie and Tim jumped to their feet and exclaimed in unison, “Dibs on the apartment!”

“I’m not moving,” said Tony stonily.

“Oh,” said Tim and Ellie slumping back down in their chairs.

Gibbs was already bored by the conversation, “Not seeing much work getting done here, people.” Tim and Bishop bent their heads to their work obediently. “DiNozzo, you OK to work?” Tony nodded gratefully, choosing to interpret this as the Boss’s way of caring. “Then get to it!” barked Gibbs.

During Gibbs’ frequent absences to get coffee, the two junior agents plied Tony with questions about why he’d started moving furniture. It was, after all, an un-Tony thing to do as he usually preferred to sucker a friend into doing any manual labour required.

Tony resisted the questions as long as possible but eventually gave in, “OK, if you must know I’ve got someone staying with me.”

“A friend?” asked Ellie.

“What is this? Twenty questions?” demanded Tony.

“Ooh, that would be cool,” said Ellie excitedly.

“It is a man?”

“I’m not playing,” said Tony with dignity.

“I’ll take that as a no,” said Tim, “How long is she staying?”

“Blonde or brunette?” asked Ellie.

“Young or old … no scratch that, is she young or the same age as you?” pressed Tim.

“Hey!” came Gibbs’ welcome voice, “We got a case. Missing petty officer’s been spotted in the Docks area. Let’s move, people.”

Fortunately for Tony’s peace of mind, the interrogation was dropped (and then, he hoped, forgotten) in the pursuit of the case.

NCISNCIS

“DiNozzo?” said Gibbs the next morning when Tony arrived at work, “What happened?” he pointed to a kitchen towel wrapped around Tony’s hand.

“Boss?”

“Your hand … it’s bleeding.”

“Damn! Thought it had stopped,” said Tony, “Oh, man, I got blood on my shirt.”

“Ducky! Now!” ordered Gibbs, “I don’t want blood on the carpet. Or at least, not blood I didn’t put there.”

Tony hesitated and Gibbs sighed, “Come on. I’ll make sure you get there.”

Tony allowed himself to be steered to the elevator, “What did you do?” asked Gibbs as he looked more closely at the clumsily wrapped hand.

“Er … broke a glass? Got glass in it when I was trying to clear up?”

“You asking me or telling me?” asked Gibbs roughly.

“Oh, telling, Boss. Telling.”

Gibbs marched Tony into autopsy and shouted, “Duck! Got a patient for you.”

Dr Mallard came bustling out from the back, “Dear me. What has happened here? It’s a bit early in the day for your team to be engaged in fisticuffs or other type of mayhem, Jethro.”

“Says he cut it on a glass, Duck. Fix him up, will you?”

“Is there any doubt as to the cause of your mishap, Anthony?” asked Ducky as the doors swished closed behind Gibbs.

“No. Like I told Gibbs, I broke a glass … got careless sweeping it up, that’s all.”

“I see,” said Ducky as he carefully unpeeled the sodden towel from Tony’s hand, “Well,” he said as he peered closer, “It looks deep but it’s a clean cut. I fear you will need a couple of stitches, my boy.”

Tony managed a grin, “Do I get a lollipop?”

Ducky smiled, “I fear I do not have any! Strange to say, most of my clients down here are beyond any need to be cajoled into accepting my ministrations. I do, however, have some shortbread … perhaps that would be an adequate substitute?” He patted Tony on the shoulder in a friendly gesture, “Now, what made you jump like that?”

The _friendly gesture_ had resulted in Tony flinching back in pain.

“What have we got here?” queried Ducky as he peeled back the shoulder of Tony’s shirt.

NCISNCIS

“Anthony had a large bruise on his left shoulder,” reported Ducky to Gibbs sometime later.

“Said he’d been moving furniture,” offered Gibbs.

“Indeed, he offered that as an explanation.”

“But you don’t buy it?”

“It seems unlikely, Jethro. As you know, over the years, I have developed some expertise in identifying the cause of blows to the body – mostly because the residents of my tables are in no position to offer me a verbal explanation.”

“And?”

“And what, Jethro?”

“Thought you were gonna tell me what caused the bruise,” explained Gibbs more patiently than he would have done with most other people.

“Forgive me, Jethro,” said Ducky penitently, “You are quite right; I do apologise but I am finding this situation a little distressing.”

“Duck?”

“Anthony was rather closemouthed about the circumstances in which he incurred this injury. He offered the explanation that he must have banged into something …”

“But you don’t agree?”

“No, I fear not. I would surmise from the shape and placement of the bruise that it is the result of Tony’s upper arm having been struck … forcefully.”

“What you saying, Duck?”

“I don’t know, Jethro. In other circumstances – and if it wasn’t Anthony we are talking about – I would suggest that he may have been physically abused.”

“Abused? Tony?”

“I know. My mind baulks at the suggestion too but … I fear that is where the evidence points.”

Gibbs frowned doubtfully, “Don’t know, Duck. I’ve seen my fair share of abuse victims and … well, DiNozzo seems pretty cheerful …”

“Indeed, I would agree. Almost _chipper_ if you don’t mind the term being applied to an American?” Gibbs shrugged; he didn’t really care what words Ducky used. “And you are right,” continued Ducky, “I would normally expect that someone who is the subject of violent attacks to be more subdued and anxious and I confess that I don’t discern any such psychological symptoms with Anthony. Although …”

“Although?” pressed Gibbs as the pause became prolonged.

“Although it is possible that Anthony has become inured to physical attacks …” he stared meaningfully at Gibbs.

“Duck! We’ve had this discussion before … the head slaps are a wakeup call! It’s not violence.”

“Well,” said Ducky thoughtfully, “You know that I do not share your view of the _wakeup_ calls – and I am determined to miss no opportunity of pressing my case – but, for the moment, we can defer further discussion of the matter.”

“You really think DiNozzo is being abused in some way?”

“I understand he has a friend staying with him,” said Ducky meaningfully, “Who knows what that might be leading to.”

“Huh.”

“I think, Jethro, it is time for you to abandon your hands-off approach to your team’s private lives and delve a little deeper into this matter.”

“Thought you were complaining that I don’t have a _hands-off_ approach,” teased Gibbs.

“Jethro …” said Ducky sternly.

Gibbs raised his hands in surrender, “OK, OK, I’ll do it. Probably freak DiNozzo out – you know how jumpy he can be if I’m _nice_.”

“I am too busy to stop and give you my opinion about the reasons behind that _skittishness_ but, rest assured, I will return to the topic at an opportune time. And I would say that, in addition to the bruise and the cut, he seems rather weary … I hope he is not sickening for anything …”

“’kay … I’m on it. Say, is DiNozzo OK to go out in the field … you know, with a banged-up hand?”

“I put 2 stitches in the wound in his left hand. I would recommend that he not take the lead in any arrests or confrontations but, as it is his non-dominant hand, I believe he may safely accompany you on any excursions you may go on.”

Gibbs retreated, shaking his head at the thought that he and his team went on _excursions_ although, on reflection, he had to admit that the banter between the team members sometimes reminded him of being on school trips.

As Gibbs strode into the squad room he decided not to go for finesse,

“DiNozzo!”

“Boss!”

“Ducky said you’ve got someone staying with you.”

“Um, yes,” said Tony warily.

Ellie and Tim started tapping their keys a little more quietly: they wanted to be sure they didn’t miss anything.

“And?” asked Gibbs.

“And … what?” asked Tony in what seemed to be honest bewilderment.

“And who is she?” asked Gibbs as he seemed to remember that Tim and Ellie had decided the guest was female.

“She?”

“The woman you’ve got staying with you.”

“Oh, that person.”

“Yes, that person.”

“Why do you want to know?”

Gibbs was momentarily flummoxed about providing a reason for his interest but settled for a hard stare which he hoped would be enough to satisfy Tony.

As he hoped, Tony made his own deductions, “Of course. Because you’re always interested in what’s going on.” The frown on Tony’s face suggested he wasn’t sure if he had deduced correctly but the habit of obedience was too strong to resist a direct question from Gibbs, “Actually … it isn’t a woman.”

“She’s a man?” exclaimed Ellie, “I mean, _he’s_ a man? You’ve got a man staying with you?”

“Hey, I know men … I don’t just have women over.”

“That’s right,” said Tim in a confidential tone, “In fact, Tony prefers to go to women’s apartments rather than have them in his apartment.”

“Why?” asked Ellie.

“Because women prefer to … you know … they prefer their own beds,” said Tim.

“Oh,” said Ellie, “Oh, well I guess it’s a while since I’ve had that issue …” her brow crinkled as she tried to decide if Tony was right or not.

“Hey!” barked Gibbs, “That’s not what we’re talking about here! DiNozzo, who’s your friend?”

Tony looked a little put out. He had hoped that the conversation had drifted to another subject and that _he_ had been forgotten.

“Not sure that _friend_ is the right word,” he said cautiously.

Bishop and McGee brightened at the thought of more intrigue, “What is he then?” asked Ellie, “You know, if he’s not your _friend_?” Her eyebrows waggled in a commendable version of Tony’s own eyebrow waggle.

“Well, I guess he is a friend,” said Tony doubtfully, “I just hadn’t seen him for … a while,” He sensed Gibbs’ impatience, “He’s a family friend … you might say.”

“He’s a friend of your Dad’s?” Gibbs’ unease about the new arrival cranked up a notch.

“No! No, um … he’s a kinda … a … friend of … my English family. I guess.”

“And he’s come to stay with you?” asked Tim.

“Sure … yeah, that’s it. He’s come to stay with me. You know – see America. See the sights.”

“What’s his name?” asked Gibbs.

“Name?”

“Yeah, you know that thing you call people by. He has got a name, hasn’t he?”

“Of course, he’s got a name. Everyone’s got a _name_.”

“And?” pressed Gibbs.

“And?” replied Tony innocently.

“And what’s _his_ name? You know, the guy who’s come to see you.”

“Oh, that one. Oh yeah, well his name is … um … it’s Alfric.”

“Alfric?” chorused Ellie and Tim.

“That his first or last name?” asked Gibbs.

“Why does it matter?” asked Tony still holding out for independence. The Gibbs’ stare was still in full operational mode, “Um, Paddington. He’s Alfric Paddington.”

“What type of name is Alfric?” asked Tim.

“It’s Alfric’s name,” said Tony with dignity.

“ _Paddington_?” asked Ellie, pursuing another track, “So he’s related to you?”

“No!” said Tony vehemently, “No. It’s just a coincidence. You know. And I know you have a rule against those, Boss … but this is kinda the exception that proves the rule. Which you should be glad of … not that I’m saying that your rules need proving or anything … course they don’t … I was just saying …” he trailed off unhappily.

“How long’s this _Alfric_ staying?” asked Gibbs.

“Uh … that’s kinda up for discuss … um, don’t know. Kinda depends …”

“On what?”

“Oh, you know … things …”

Gibbs delivered another cool stare but then decided to let Tony off the hook for the moment. He had a name – a distinctive name – and he thought that was enough to be going on with. “Back to work,” he ordered.


	2. Chapter 2

Gibbs decided that Ducky’s fears were misplaced. Over the next few days, Tony didn’t appear to have suffered any more mishaps and continued to be his normal confident self … except when he remembered that his co-workers expected less of him and he made sure to bungle something or say something inappropriate. The weariness noted by Ducky was still apparent but didn’t seem to be slowing Tony down at all.

The MCRT had caught back to back cases so Gibbs did not have time to look into Alfric Paddington and had just decided there was nothing to look in to when Ducky arrived to work looking concerned once more. Gibbs suppressed a sigh,

“Duck? You all right?”

“I am well, thank you, Jethro. My cardiologist continues to be satisfied with my heart and, in many ways, I consider that I am fitter than I have been for years. I do, from time to time, miss having buttered toast …” he seemed to go off into a reverie, “… I used to enjoy a plate of toast. Very hot … preferably with holes which the butter used to fill … oh well, I suppose it is a small price to pay for unclogged arteries but I find that it is often the little pleasures which are the ones that linger most in the memory.”

Gibbs blinked.

“But,” continued Ducky, “It is kind of you to ask after my health, Jethro.” Ducky seemed to replay the conversation, “But may I ask why you enquired? Do I not look well? I would be grateful if you would advise me. Although I am a physician and I monitor my condition assiduously, it may well be that a _lay_ person might spot something untoward which I might miss. Please do not be afraid to point such a thing out to me …”

Gibbs managed not to roll his eyes, “I just thought you looked … anxious, Duck. That’s all.”

“Oh. Oh, I see. Well, in that case, I will admit that I am a little anxious. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

Gibbs was busy with looking over the reports from all the recent cases and part of him wanted to murmur something soothing and get back to his paperwork, but his conscience and his annoying _gut_ would not let him, “What is it, Duck?”

“I went to the opera last night.”

“Ah,” Gibbs braced himself for a complaint about some breach of etiquette … perhaps someone had worn brown shoes with their formal wear, or the German accent of the contralto had wavered ...

“Anthony was there.”

“Huh,” Gibbs remembered that Tony had hurried off when he had dismissed them for the day. He hadn’t figured that he would be in a hurry for _opera_ … unless he had a new lady friend who was an opera buff.

“I think he was probably with his friend, Mr Paddington.”

“Huh,” Gibbs said in a more interested tone, “And that worried you?”

“They seemed to be on good terms …”

“That’s good,” said Gibbs absently as he continued to cast his eye over Bishop’s report.

“Jethro! I would appreciate your undivided attention!”

“I was listening, Duck!” protested Gibbs.

“I wanted to tell you … that they seemed to be on amicable terms …”

“I heard that,” said Gibbs a little peevishly.

“I don’t believe they saw me …”

Gibbs had the unworthy thought that perhaps Tony had deliberately avoided seeing Ducky so as to avoid protracted introductions.

“But I saw them … and I was about to make my presence known when …” Ducky paused dramatically.

“Yes?”

“Mr Paddington … if indeed it was he … put his hand on Anthony’s shoulder … and he winced.”

“Who winced? DiNozzo or the guy?”

“Mr Paddington,” said Ducky crossly, “I am sure that the gesture caused Anthony pain. It made me remember my previous misgivings which I had allowed to … which I had decided were unfounded … and now, I think that I was right to be concerned. You need to talk to Anthony about this.”

“Can’t do that, Duck.”

“Jethro, you have to do so. I know that you are often brusque with the members of your team … and I have remonstrated with you forcefully on this matter … but I know that you have their welfare at heart. So, I fear you will actually have to _do_ something on this matter.”

“Didn’t say I _won’t_ do it, Duck. Said I _can’t_.”

“What? What do you mean, Jethro?”

“DiNozzo called me last night. Must have been just before he left his apartment to go to the opera. Asked for a few days’ leave …”

“And you granted it?”

“Sure. Why not? Cases are closed … I’m not a _monster_.” For such a voluble person, it was interesting how telling a Ducky silence could be and Gibbs found himself offering the real truth, “… and HR are keen for my team to use up their leave. We’ve all got Christmas off anyway; he’s just taking the days off leading up to it.”

“I see,” said Ducky blandly, “And did Anthony say what the purpose of his additional leave is?”

“Wants to spend some time with _Alfric_ , show him some sights I guess.”

“I see,” said Ducky again, “But that does not prevent you from contacting him, does it? Am I not right in thinking that you even have a rule against not being out of contact?”

“Well,” said Gibbs almost looking shifty, “When I took the paperwork to HR … Dolores was there.”

“Ah,” said Ducky, “Am I to suppose that Miss Bromstead reminded you that NCIS personnel are entitled to be left alone when they are on vacation?”

“She mentioned it,” said Gibbs. Ducky’s eyes twinkled as he imagined how Dolores had _mentioned_ it, “So you see … I can’t phone him. And I got the impression that they were going away …”

“Hah! Very well, I won’t press you on the matter, Jethro. Although I would just say that, should a case arise, I have little doubt that you would summon him back post haste! And I should also …”

“Hey! Thought you weren’t going to _press the matter_ ,” protested Gibbs.

“Quite so,” said Ducky penitently, “I apologise. I will attend to my work and trust that your _gut_ is more reliable in this matter than mine. And given Anthony’s weariness and pallor I believe a few days away from the rigours of work will be beneficial for his health.”

Gibbs nodded and watched him go. He listened to his own gut for a moment or two but decided that it did not seem concerned about DiNozzo’s wellbeing – he had sounded relaxed enough the previous night. He looked up as he saw McGee and Bishop arriving for work,

“Hey, Boss,” said Tim, “Um you did say to come in later today, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Man down today,” replied Gibbs.

“Huh,” said Bishop, “Guess you were right after all, Tim.”

“About what?” asked Gibbs.

“Oh, well … Tony was talking to someone on the phone as I left last night. He was complaining … but sort of boasting as well … that he and Alfric had broken Tony’s bed.”

“And Tim thought that might mean that Tony wouldn’t be at work … or would be struggling …” said Ellie, “… you know, because he’d be kinda _tired_.”

“Huh,” said Gibbs taking a sip of coffee to disguise a sense of annoyance at the reason why DiNozzo might be too tired to work. “Anyway, he’s not sick,” Gibbs hoped he was right about that. “He’s taken some days off. So, finish the paperwork and then we’re off rotation till he comes back.”

“Cool!” said McGee, “And Boss, while we’re not working hot cases, maybe I could run some diagnostics on your PC … I think I could make it run faster …”

Gibbs looked horrified at the thought of his computer working quicker and he was grateful he had an excuse at hand, “Not now, Tim. I’ve got some searches to run.”

“Y-y-you what?” asked Ellie.

“Excuse me?” asked Tim in turn.

“You heard me,” said Gibbs brusquely, “You think I can’t run searches?”

Tim was instinctively honest, but he was also instinctively very wary of upsetting Gibbs: self-preservation won out, “No, Boss. ‘Course not … just never knew you to run one before,” he trailed off doubtfully.

“You got work to do?” demanded Gibbs, “’cos I can find stuff for you to do …” The threat tailed off as the two junior agents got to work. The shadow of a smile graced Gibbs’ lips as he typed _Alfric Paddington_ into the search box. Hmm, perhaps he had spelled it wrong he thought as the search failed. He tried _Alfrick Paddington_ but got the same failure. Over the next few minutes he tried as many variations of Alfric that he could think of always without success. He resorted to A Paddington but then got hundreds of results.

“Going to see Abby,” he announced.

“Hey, Abby,” he said a few moments later as he entered the lab.

Abby jumped guiltily but tried a winning smile.

“Need you to do something for me, Abs.”

“Always,” said Abby happily, “And especially now because I wasn’t doing anything. No, siree … nothing at all, nothing to worry about.”

“Huh,” Gibbs decided not to delve into whatever Abby had been up to. He slept well at night and put this down largely to not knowing what Abby did when she was on her own. “DiNozzo’s taking a few days’ leave.”

“I know!” said Abby brightly, “But it’s not important … doesn’t matter … doesn’t make me … no, I’m fine.”

“Good,” said Gibbs warily, “Uh, Ducky’s a little … wor-concerned about this friend he’s got staying with him.”

“Oh, is he?” said Abby with an airy innocence that set alarms ringing for Gibbs.

“Yes, he is. And …”

“Oh, OK, I confess,” crumbled Abby, “I’m sorry … well, not _sorry_ exactly but …”

“I tried to do a search on him,” said Gibbs, ignoring the interruption, “But I guess it’s more difficult than I thought because I didn’t come up with anything.”

“It’s not you,” said Abby.

“Excuse me?”

“I tried as well … I mean, Ducky was being all brave and stoic and _British_ about it but I could see he was really worried … and that made me kinda worried too so I thought it wouldn’t really matter if I tried to find something out about him … and I know that I shouldn’t have done it. And that Tony might be all _it’s an invasion of privacy, Abs_ but I did it anyway. But I hope he’s not too mad ‘cos well …”

“Well what?”

“Well … when Tony gets mad it’s not pretty.”

“It isn’t?”

“No, it isn’t,” said Abby earnestly, “You remember the time I ate his last potato chip?”

“No,” said Gibbs honestly.

“Well, that was bad enough,” Abby shuddered, “But then I kinda traced his cell when he was late to the nuns’ tea party! Boy, was he mad about that!”

“What did he do?” asked Gibbs, momentarily distracted from the search for Alfric Paddington.

“He told Matilda off.”

“Who’s Matilda?”

“Gibbs!” said Abby reproachfully, “You know Matilda. She took over from Bertha … may she rest in peace …”

“Bertha?”

“You remember. When that bad guy’s phone blew up Bertha when McGee and I were trying to get information off it. Well, Matilda stepped up.”

“Why are we talking about Matilda?” asked Gibbs.

“I was telling you that it can be dangerous to get on Tony’s bad side. When I did, he gave Matilda a good telling off …”

“And?”

“And she was off her game for weeks.”

“Because DiNozzo told her off?”

“Absolutely.”

Gibbs shook his head, “OK, so despite the danger, you did a search on Alfric Paddington?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And, nothing.”

“What?”

“I didn’t get any results back.”

“So, it wasn’t just me?”

“Wasn’t what just you?”

“It wasn’t because I’m not as good at running searches as you that I didn’t get anywhere?”

“Well, ordinarily it probably would be … but in this case, you’re off the hook. There weren’t any results because I don’t think there’s anything to find.”

“How can that be?”

“I don’t know, Gibbs,” Abby’s hands flew into the air, “I searched the database of British passports … which perhaps I shouldn’t have done. Zilch. Then I searched planes arriving into US airports. Zilch.”

“Did you try …”

“I tried every variation of Alfric I could think of … and it’s a totally cool name which, if I have to name another lab buddy, I might give to a new friend.”

“Did you try …”

“I tried it as a middle name … and, before you ask, I even searched just for _A_ Paddington. And I got …”

“Zilch,” suggested Gibbs.

“That’s right … although I did get a lot of cute pictures of Paddington Bear with Hugh Grant … so it wasn’t a total waste of time.”

Gibbs recognised the Bear and Hugh Grant as unhelpful diversions and ignored them, “What next then?”

“I don’t know, Gibbs,” wailed Abby, “I’m defeated, beaten, knocked out … if only we had a picture …”

“Well,” said Gibbs after a moment or two, “Ducky saw them at the opera last night. There might be …”

“CCTV footage of them showing up! That is brilliant, Gibbs. Hah! I’m not defeated … I was knocked back for a moment, but I will arise once more and be TRIUMPHANT!”

Gibbs tactfully backed out, “Let me know, Abby.” Somehow, he didn’t think she even noticed that he’d gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Gibbs almost expected to be summoned back to Abby’s lab immediately, but it turned out he had time for three coffee breaks before the call came.

“Abs?” he said as he entered the lab carrying an extra-large CafPow.

“Oh, Gibbs,” she said forlornly as she looked wistfully at the drink, “I don’t deserve to be rewarded.”

“You’re always deserving in my book, Abby,” said Gibbs stoutly as he offered the cup.

Abby’s hesitation, if any, was so short that it was over before even any of her supersensitive, highly calibrated machines could record it, “Thank you, Gibbs. You’re the best.”

“So, what you got?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? How can you have nothing?”

“Well, not completely nothing,” corrected Abby, “I mean, I still have super forensic skills, so not nothing. I found the opera. And I found Ducky – looking _very_ dapper in his kilt I may say. And I found Tony and his _friend_.”

“That’s good,” said Gibbs encouragingly.

“No, it’s not. I ran facial recognition on every database I could think of … and nada … zilch …”

“Again?”

“To be fair, I didn’t say _nada_ last time,” said Abby conscientiously, “But yes. I have nothing.”

“Did you check airports?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“Nothing.”

“How so? I mean, he must have come into the country, mustn’t he?” Gibbs frowned at the photo Abby was using as if he could intimidate it into giving up its secrets.

“I think he must be a spy,” sighed Abby.

“A spy?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense. He must have a super-secret hidden identity _and_ snuck into the country under cover of … something.”

“You think Tony’s friend is a spy?” asked Gibbs doubtfully.

“Yes, yes,” said Abby who seemed to have been reinvigorated by the caffeine jolt, “He might be like James Bond – ooh, just think how excited Tony must be to have a spy as a family friend.”

“I guess.”

Gibbs’ doubts transmitted themselves to Abby who deflated slightly, “Yeah, you’re right. Tony would be _so_ excited that he wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret, would he? Although,” she pursued another thought, “He did keep that undercover mission for Director Sheppard to himself. Sorry, I know we’re not meant to talk about it … but still, he totally was secretive about that, wasn’t he?”

“You haven’t tried hacking into MI5, have you?” asked Gibbs.

“No …” said Abby unconvincingly.

“Or MI6?”

“No …” Abby caved, “Well, all right I did but I didn’t get anywhere. They’ve really upped their game since the last time I … well, they’ve got really good security now.”

“OK well, keep looking … not hacking, just looking. Don’t think I want to explain to the Director why his forensic scientist has been arrested for hacking because Ducky’s got a bad feeling about DiNozzo’s long lost friend from England.”

“You know,” said Abby thoughtfully, “Sometimes it feels like the Director doesn’t quite _get_ our family vibe. I’m sending out positive thoughts but …”

Gibbs found himself at a loss for words so settled for kissing Abby on the cheek, “Let me know, Abs,” he said as he left.

Gibbs found himself unexpectedly unsettled by the news that Tony’s friend didn’t seem to exist, and he found he had his cell phone in his hand and had pressed Tony’s number almost without thinking. He decided to go with his gut and to hell with Dolores and her HR regulations. Hell, without DiNozzo in the office he could do with some lively confrontation and, in any case, Tony would probably be disappointed if he didn’t get a call while he was on vacation.

As Gibbs waited, he tried to think what to say to Tony – somehow asking why his friend didn’t show up on any of the databases Abby had _visited_ might be difficult to get around to. As it happened, the conversational agility was unnecessary as the phone went straight to voicemail.

“You OK, Boss?” asked Tim as Gibbs walked into the squad room.

“Yes.” Tim thought about asking again but the look on Gibbs’ face warned him off. Gibbs gazed at the desktop on his computer until he spotted the icon Abby had put there,

“Just in case you need it, Gibbs,” she had said earnestly, “If everyone else is out of the office … phone tracking for Dum-novices … yes, novices,” she said, “I’ve put all the steps in. It’ll be easy. Promise.”

Gibbs remembered trying to ignore her crossed fingers. He realised, however, that he should have trusted Abby as the process turned out to be simple. He frowned, wondering if he’d been giving McGee and Bishop too much credit over the years for something which was so easy – but something, his conscience prodded him, which they _understood_ how to do and could do if the obvious route failed. Gibbs gazed at his computer screen but then saw that, helpfully, it seemed Tony’s cell was in his apartment.

“Call it a day,” he announced as he stood up and collected his weapon.

“Boss? Gibbs?” asked Tim and Ellie, “But it’s only 1500?”

Gibbs delivered a level 3 stare but that was enough to shock his agents into acquiescence,

“Course, Boss. Thank you, Gibbs. Er … have a good one,” they managed in response as Gibbs strode out.

Gibbs had decided he would go see DiNozzo and weather any fallout from HR later. He toyed briefly with the idea of buying a new toy for the goldfish as an alibi for a visit but decided that would definitely spook DiNozzo. He turned the keys over in his pocket as he approached the apartment building but hoped he wouldn’t need them but would get buzzed in by DiNozzo in his usual cheerful manner. Gibbs wasn’t sure quite why DiNozzo always seemed happy to get a visit, but he was happy to go along with it.

On this occasion, however, he didn’t get buzzed in so needed to use his set of keys. As he rode the elevator, Gibbs wondered if this was a good idea. He wasn’t as sensitive as Matilda to a telling off from DiNozzo, but he was reluctant to intrude especially as the words about a broken bed kept going around in his head.

Gibbs knocked on the door when he arrived, giving DiNozzo a last chance of being in control but, when there was no sound of feet hurrying to the door, Gibbs gave in and let himself in.

“What the …!” he exclaimed as he looked around house proud DiNozzo’s apartment. It appeared that it wasn’t just the bed which had been broken as Gibbs saw a smashed dining chair and a sofa with only 3 legs left. He went into the bedroom and saw that indeed the bed had disintegrated; a litter of cushions on the floor suggested that had become the sleeping place. Gibbs went into the kitchen where one stool lay almost flattened on the floor.

As Gibbs looked around, trying to make sense of the chaos, he spotted Tony’s cell phone, also smashed. Tony’s gun was missing from the gun safe but, from a cursory look in the bedroom, it didn’t look as if any suitcases were missing which suggested that Tony hadn’t gone away for a trip. A mug and a plate were in the sink waiting to be washed up; Tony’s toiletries still seemed to be in place in the bathroom – it seemed that he had just upped and gone and taken Alfric with him. Or, Gibbs tried not to think, Alfric had taken _him_.

Gibbs didn’t spend much longer in the apartment apart from checking that the fish seemed to be healthy and had escaped from whatever disaster had been visited on the rest of the place.

“Abby,” said Gibbs down his phone as he walked away, “I need you to do something for me.” The destruction he had seen convinced him that the time to _respect DiNozzo’s privacy_ was over.

NCISNCIS

“How you doing, Abs?” asked Gibbs a little later when he had got back to the Navy Yard.

“I’ve been searching through the security cameras in the centre of DC … using the pictures I got of Alfric from the opera. And the photos I already had of Tony. You didn’t want a BOLO out, did you?”

“Not yet. Want to see what we’re dealing with first. You found anything?”

“I found some footage of them together – they went to the Smithsonian and then to the Lincoln Memorial.”

“Show me.”

Gibbs wanted to see how the two were together but, when Abby played the footage, he couldn’t see anything untoward. He could just see two men walking together amicably and chatting.

“And then it looks as if they split up …”

“Where?”

“Looks as if they went to the National Zoo. They were looking at the marmosets and I think Alfric wandered off. Tony had been talking to a real sweet marmoset and when he looked around you could see that he was looking for him. He was running around trying to find him.”

“He looked worried?”

“Yes.”

“So, he didn’t want to lose him?”

“No, he was looking everywhere.”

“Did you find Alfric?”

“Not for a long time but I found him going out the main gate after about an hour. And then Tony going out too.”

“You picked them up again?”

“No, still looking. I’ll find them again, Gibbs. There’s lots of cameras around there … I just need to work out how to break into them.”

“Let me know when you find either one of them, Abby. I’ll be at my desk.”

“On it, Sir!” said Abby with an attempt at cheerfulness.

An hour passed with Gibbs sitting at his desk, drinking coffee he didn’t want, and which churned in his stomach. He forced himself to do more paperwork rather than going down to harass Abby into producing results. And then she came and spoke from the elevator,

“G-Gibbs … I found them … both. I-I’ve sent you an email. Click on the link – please, Gibbs just do it. I don’t think I can watch it anymore.” The doors swished closed, leaving Gibbs to open the message. Security camera footage flashed on to his screen.

_Gibbs saw a tall man walk a little shakily down a deserted alleyway toward the camera. And then he saw Special Agent Tony DiNozzo step out of the shadows and, after a moment’s hesitation, fire a shot at the other man._

“What the hell …” What happened now?

PRESENT TIME

The thoughts flooded through Gibbs’ head – why had DiNozzo done this … and was there a way out for him? There had to be – Gibbs couldn’t imagine a world with Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo behind bars. He watched the footage still playing on his screen and he saw Tony’s head jerk up and then spin around towards the camera. A moment later, and the gun was raised again, and the camera went dead.

Gibbs stood up in preparation for going down to the lab to speak to Abby but, before he could leave his desk, his computer pinged to indicate another message had arrived from Abby.

“Gibbs, the camera was in an alley way off Homer Street near 14th Street NW. Here’s the map reference. Doesn’t look as if any incident has been reported yet. Gibbs, don’t talk to me- I’m too full. I don’t understand – how could Tony, our Tony do something like this? Gibbs, we have to fix this. I’m going to carry on working but you need to get out there. This is all a big mistake, a misunderstanding. I know it is!”

Gibbs tapped a quick reply, “Thanks, Abs. On my way. Let me know if you find anything.”

Gibbs made swift progress to the alley off Homer Street which seemed to be home to a number of fast food places. The thought of food teased at something in his mind, but he pushed it away for the time being in favour of looking around. He saw the damaged security camera and, using its position, judged where Tony had taken his single shot at Alfric. There was no body to be seen although it was possible, Gibbs thought, that there were signs of something having been dragged. In the light of his torch he couldn’t see any blood and it looked as if Tony had _policed his brass_. Gibbs couldn’t decide if he was pleased to see that Tony had been so careful at a crime scene – he would have commended that care at a crime scene the MCRT was investigating but he never expected to be at a scene generated by DiNozzo. He took out his cell,

“Abs.”

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs.”

“Found anything?”

“No,” came the sad reply, “But I think Tony knows now to be aware of the cameras. And let’s face it, he knows where most of them are in DC. If he wanted to avoid being caught on them … well, he probably could. What have you found?”

“I’m at the cr- the place where it happened. Nothing to see, no blood, no bullet cases.”

“And what about …”

“No, no body either.”

“Perhaps he’s not _dead_ ,” said Abby hopefully, “You know, just …”

“Abs, you saw the shot. It was dead centre, would have hit the heart. Guy didn’t stand a chance.”

“I know …” Abby’s voice broke down over the phone, “It’s just that I …”

“I know, Abs,” said Gibbs gently, “Listen, go home. You can’t do anything more tonight. Come back to it fresh tomorrow.”

“But I can carry …”

“Abs, go home. You’ve done all that you could. Go home. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“OK, I guess …”

“And no sleeping on your futon in the lab. Go home, get some proper rest,” ordered Gibbs, “Go on, let me hear you shutting the guys down for the night.”

“OK, doing it now,” said Abby reluctantly.

Gibbs waited until he was sure that she had obeyed him and then surveyed the alley one more time. What should he do? And where would DiNozzo have run to? Having satisfied himself that there was nothing to be seen in the alleyway, Gibbs decided to take his own advice and head home. A few hours of sanding wood and nursing a bourbon might provide some clarity.


	4. Chapter 4

As Gibbs let himself into his house, he wondered whether he should have taken Ducky’s worries more seriously. Perhaps if he had tackled DiNozzo earlier this whole mess could have been avoided. He shook his head; it wasn’t the time for _what-ifs_ and _maybes_ but rather for working out how to save DiNozzo.

“Er, Boss,” came a quiet, familiar voice.

Gibbs was grateful it was dark, so the uncharacteristic start of surprise was hidden, “DiNozzo!”

“Thought I should warn you. You know, that I’m here. Didn’t want to frighten you … well, not _frighten_ obviously because nothing frightens you. But just to let you know … so you don’t shoot me …”

“Don’t tempt me,” groused Gibbs, “What you doing here, DiNozzo?”

“Yeah, I know. I’m supposed to be on vacation not hanging out at my Boss’s place. But don’t worry, Boss, I won’t tell Dolores if you won’t.”

Gibbs shook his head at the thought how trivial a scolding from Dolores felt in the scheme of things.

“Still haven’t told me what you’re doing here, DiNozzo,” said Gibbs mildly.

“I need your help, Boss. Don’t know who else to ask.”

“Can always come to me, DiNozzo. You know that,” said Gibbs gruffly.

“Thanks, Boss. Means a lot.”

“Go on then. What do you need my help with?”

“It’s … difficult.”

“Uh huh.”

“I don’t know where to start …”

“Beginning’s usually a pretty good place.” Gibbs switched on a floor lamp as he sat down on the couch and looked across to where Tony was sitting at the table. He looked tired and stressed and seemed to have a fresh bruise blossoming over one eye.

“You might not … well, it’s hard …”

“Try.”

“I’ve got a … problem,” confessed Tony.

“A problem! Is that what you call it?” exclaimed Gibbs.

Tony seemed surprised at the reaction, “Well, yeah … it’s a problem.”

“It’s about your friend, isn’t it? Alfric?”

“Er yes, how did you know? What am I saying, it’s you! Of course you know. Yeah, you know, Boss, it’s all been a bit of a nightmare from the off.”

“You should have come to me, Tony,” said Gibbs gently, “Before it came to this …”

“I know but I thought I could … and you weren’t the obvious person to ask.”

“Doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. We need to work out where we go from here.”

“We?”

“We’re a team, Tony. Stick together. Think I’ve even got a rule about it somewhere.”

Tony managed a shaky smile, “Thanks, Boss.”

“You gonna tell me what happened? Were you provoked? What happened?”

“Provoked?” said Tony bitterly, “Yeah, I guess you could say that. But I should have found another way … there had to be another way.”

“Go on. You’ll feel better when you’ve told someone.”

“Yeah, I guess it has been a bit _lonely_. You know, me alone with Alfric. I mean, I phoned Crispian a couple time …”

“Crispian?”

“Yeah, you know. My cousin, in the UK.”

“And he understood?”

“Some, yeah. I’m not sure what he’s going to think when I tell him.”

“You’re gonna tell him?”

“I guess,” Tony sighed and dropped his head in his hands for a moment or two, “Oh, God … I don’t know what to do.”

“So … Alfric provoked you this evening?” prompted Gibbs.

“He didn’t mean to,” protested Tony.

“You don’t have to make excuses for him,” said Gibbs sternly.

“I guess … but … I didn’t know … I just …” Tony trailed off miserably.

Gibbs gazed compassionately at his Senior Field Agent and decided to relieve him a little of the burden he was carrying, “So you shot him.”

Tony’s head shot up, “How did you know?”

“Abby. She tracked you using security cameras. We saw you shooting Alfric …”

“Yes.”

“You’ll be able to make a case for self-defence or justifiable homicide,” said Gibbs bracingly, “Ducky noticed your bruises … and I went by your apartment and saw the damage there.”

Tony winced, “Yeah.”

“But we need to do something, Tony. So, tell me, what did you do with the body?”

“What?”

“I know you policed your brass but there’s probably some evidence in the alley. We need to get on it.”

“Boss, are you going to help me cover up a murder?” asked Tony.

“Need to hear your story properly but … well, Tony, these things always come to light in the end. Might be tempting to run – or to help you run – but I don’t think it would work out in the end. Better to face the music – with top-notch lawyers to back you up.”

“Huh?”

“So, Tony, where’s the body? Where did you put Alfric?”

“He’s in the kitchen.”

“What! You put him in my kitchen?” On reflection, Gibbs wasn’t sure why the thought of a body being deposited in his kitchen was so irritating although he thought that perhaps a bathroom would be a more practical place with regard to potential spillage of blood and other bodily fluids.

“Thought it would be OK. Didn’t want you coming in and finding that I’d arrived with someone you didn’t know.”

Gibbs blinked at the idea he would be more or less offended by a body he knew rather than that of a stranger. “So, you brought Alfric here? After you shot him?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t think of taking him to a hospital?”

Tony looked shifty, “No, no point.”

Gibbs felt like arguing the point, but he’d seen the shot and was sure that Tony was right that a hospital would not have been able to help.

“Stay here,” ordered Gibbs, “I’m going to see what we’re dealing with.”

“It might be better if I come too,” said Tony making to get up from his chair.

“Stay!” commanded Gibbs, perhaps with a thought of preventing Tony contaminating any more evidence.

He took a breath and walked into his kitchen. Dead bodies had long ceased to have any fears for him but one in his own house was always slightly disconcerting. He told himself that the chill in the air was the usual temperature of his house and not because of the presence of a corpse. He saw that this particular body had been propped up on one of his kitchen chairs. He leaned towards the body.

“Good evening,” said Alfric as he opened his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Into the silence came the voice of Tony who had disobeyed the instructions to stay behind.

“You’re awake!”

Alfric stared at Tony and nodded briefly.

“DiNozzo!” barked Gibbs. Gentleness and compassion forgotten in the shock of having a corpse talking to him.

“What?” asked Tony, “Did you really think I’d killed someone? Boss?”

“I saw you shoot him. I saw you hit him in the heart. I saw him fall to the ground. So yes, I thought you’d killed him. And then I saw you shoot out the camera so it couldn’t record anything else. So yes, damnit, I thought you’d killed someone!”

“Oh, well, yeah, I suppose I can see why you thought that,” conceded Tony.

“I need a drink,” announced Gibbs, “And then,” he poked a finger into Tony’s chest, “I need _you_ to explain exactly what’s been going on. And then I might, just _might¸_ decide not to get you prosecuted for criminal damage to a security camera!”

“You wouldn’t!” gasped Tony, “Oh, well, yes, I guess you would. But I can explain, Boss. Really, I can.”

“Then you’d better start. Right now!” said Gibbs menacingly.

He looked at Alfric, still sitting in the chair, and noticed that he seemed to have gone to sleep. He walked back into his living room and pointed Tony towards a chair.

“Um Boss, I know you’re pretty mad at me. And I understand. Completely. I do. But do you think I could have a drink too? This has all been kinda stressful.”

Gibbs was never entirely without compassion, so he nodded permission. Tony jumped up and poured himself a drink before going to sit down again. He rolled the glass between his fingers and seemed to be trying to decide how to start.

“Time’s a wasting here, DiNozzo.”

Tony gulped. It hadn’t escaped his attention that the friendly _Tonys_ of earlier had been replaced by _DiNozzo._

“It’s a long story,” he warned.

“I got time. And the police are available all night.”

“Yeah. Right. Well, and it might be hard for you to understand.”

“Try me,” said Gibbs uncompromisingly.

“OK. Well, as far as we can work out, it started around 1720.”

“It started before that,” snapped Gibbs, “This has been brewing for days.”

Tony laughed nervously, “No, Gibbs. Not the _time_ 1720 – the year 1720.” Gibbs took a gulp of his bourbon and gestured for Tony to carry on. “My family – well, the Paddingtons, not the DiNozzos – lived in Oxfordshire. They had a country estate called Padding Park. It was quite remote and the Earl of Padding …”

“The Earl?”

“Yes, the third Earl. The title’s moved to another branch of the family now.” Gibbs wasn’t sure whether or not Tony was saying this to reassure him, but he decided that was a story for another time, and he gestured for him to continue. “Anyway, like I said, the estate was quite remote even in those days when I guess most places were more remote than they are today. And the third Earl, Emmanuel …” Tony paused as if expecting a comment on the name but, when none came, he resumed, “…well, Emmanuel was a bit eccentric. Even by the standards of 18th century English earls. And that probably came in useful.”

“Go on.”

“’cos one day, Alfric showed up, out of the blue. And he ended up staying.”

Gibbs frowned. The account seemed less complicated than Tony had suggested, “And this Alfric … the one who’s not sitting dead in my kitchen … is a descendant of the guy who showed up at your … at this Emmanuel’s home?”

Tony laughed his nervous laugh again, “No, Boss. The guy who showed up three centuries ago is the one who’s sitting in your kitchen.”

Gibbs laughed his own laugh, “So, you’re telling me that the guy sitting out there is 300 years old?”

“No, Boss. He’s older than that because he wasn’t new when he showed up at Padding Park.”

“That’s impossible. Nobody can live that long.”

“I agree … although there have been a lot of medical breakthroughs … but that’s not important now. Subject for discussion another time … or not. No, but Alfric … well, he’s kinda … not … human.”

“Not human,” said Gibbs in a purposefully calm tone, “THEN WHAT THE HELL IS HE?”

“He’s a … well, you know we’ve always struggled to know that. He’s a kind of robot, an artificial … well, not human being but an artificial being.”

“He looks real,” said Gibbs, “Doesn’t look artificial.”

“No,” agreed Tony, “He’s very good. Very lifelike. From what we can tell, he probably looks even more realistic – to us anyway – since he dressed like us and adapted his hair and skin colour to blend in. Seems he was blue with waist length hair when he showed up.”

“Tony …”

Tony looked across at Gibbs warily, somehow, he didn’t think a return to _Tony_ was a good sign.

“Tony, what’s going on? You haven’t been in any more accidents, have you?”

“No, I’m fine. Why?”

“You got a new bruise over your eye … I wondered if you’d taken any painkillers. You know how they make you loopy sometimes. Ducky was worried that you were unwell …”

“Boss, I’m fine! I’ll admit that I’m a little stressed at the moment, but I swear I’m telling you the truth. Alfric is some sort of artificial life form that showed up at my ancestor’s estate around 1720. Emmanuel kept a detailed journal of when he first showed up.”

“And he just welcomed him in?” asked Gibbs sarcastically.

“Well, pretty much. I know it seems unlikely …”

“You think?”

“But Emmanuel was an unusual guy himself. He was an astronomer … an amateur scientist. Apparently, he set up a laboratory for himself and did weird experiments which alarmed the villagers. So, he was probably one of the few people around who would have welcomed Alfric.”

“Tony …”

“Tony is telling the truth,” came a voice behind Gibbs.

Gibbs spun around and saw that Alfric appeared to have woken up enough to weigh in on the discussion.

“So, you’re 300 years old … and a robot?” demanded Gibbs.

“No. I am _at least_ 300 years old and I do not believe that _robot_ is an adequate description.”

“Oh yeah? And what would you say is an adequate description?” asked Gibbs.

“That is a good question, Special Agent Gibbs. I do not know how old I am although, as Tony pointed out, I must have existed before I arrived at his ancestor’s estate three centuries ago. And I consider that the word _robot_ implies a lack of decision making by the … entity … but I am more than capable of making decisions about what to do. You look unimpressed, Special Agent Gibbs.”

“Just call me Gibbs.”

“Very well, _Gibbs_. I will repeat my statement. You do not seem to believe me.”

“You have to admit it’s kinda hard to come to terms with.”

“I agree. I would have thought however, that it is possible that you would believe Tony to be truthful in his dealings with you. I admit that Tony is somewhat known for his _playfulness_ and, sometimes, misplaced sense of fun but I find it doubtful that he has ever played a prank on you of such a long and involved nature.”

Gibbs knew that this was true, but he still could not believe that Tony had somehow acquired a 300-year-old family robot.

“Perhaps a demonstration would be in order?” suggested Alfric.

“Demonstration?” asked Gibbs.

“You could do different voices,” suggested Tony.

“What?” queried Gibbs.

“Well, Alfric’s default setting is the proper English voice but he can speak in pretty much any voice,” explained Tony, “Go on, try one,” he urged.

The next minute, Gibbs’ living room was filled with the sound of Frank Sinatra singing _I did it my way_.

“Aw,” said Tony, “My favourite. You know how much I like ol’ Blue Eyes. But perhaps choose something Gibbs would like.”

Alfric directed a level stare in Gibbs’ direction and then he and Tony heard the voice of Perry Como singing _Tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree_.

Gibbs shook his head impatiently, clearing suspecting that there was some hidden music player somewhere.

“Or perhaps you’d like to hit me?” suggested Alfric.

Gibbs looked a little too ready to hit something so Tony felt he should intervene, “Go gently, Boss,” he warned.

“Afraid I’ll hurt your friend?”

“No, not really. More worried you’ll hurt yourself.”

Gibbs drew back his right hand in readiness to deliver the blow, “Tony is right, Gibbs. I would suggest that you hold your punch slightly. The objective is for you to hear that my body is not made of anything that you would recognise,” said Alfric helpfully.

Gibbs’ eyes narrowed but he did hold back a little.

“Damn!” he said as his hand rebounded off Alfric’s chest to the sound of a loud clang.

“Quite,” said Alfric, “When you have recovered, you may wish to try again but this time I will demonstrate how, usually, I cloak the surface of my body in order to replicate the normal sensation of touching someone.”

Gibbs frowned again but, after a few moments when the shock had faded, he threw another punch which, this time, did not result in a loud ringing sound or jarring sensation.

“Huh! OK, I’m not buying any of this yet but why don’t you carry on with this _tale_ of yours,” he said, resisting the urge to nurse his hand.

“Not much more to tell really,” said Tony. He saw Gibbs’ raised eyebrow, “I mean, there’s a lot I could tell you … the people who followed Emmanuel all kept journals about Alfric. And he just stayed with the family. Kept out of sight. You know.”

Gibbs shook his head wondering whether it was only DiNozzo who could think it was normal to give refuge to some sort of robot.

“Well, perhaps you don’t,” conceded Tony, “But I guess it feels pretty normal to me. I’ve known Alfric since my Mom first took me to see her folks when I was a toddler.”

“And you’ve all kept it a secret?” asked Gibbs.

“Sure.”

“Then why is he here instead of on your country estate?”

“Padding Park is delightful, Gibbs but after 300 years it begins to become less _stimulating_ ,” said Alfric.

“You got _bored_?”

“Essentially, yes.”

“But how did you get into the country?”

“You had Abby check on immigration?” asked Tony.

“So?”

“Nothing, Boss. Completely understandable, of course,” backtracked Tony.

“And we can’t see that you came in on any commercial aircraft – or anything that required an immigration check,” said Gibbs, “So, how did you do it?”

“Did I ever tell you that the Paddingtons have a history of serving in the Diplomatic Service?” asked Tony.

“No.”

“Well, they have. Means they’ve got some pull, so they got Alfric through in the diplomatic pouch.”

“Diplomatic pouch?” Gibbs looked at the 6ft tall whatever he was … “You put him in a _bag_?”

“It is a generic term,” said Alfric helpfully, “It means any container with diplomatic privileges preventing it from being opened in transit. I came in a packing case.”

“Which was delivered to my apartment,” said Tony.

“It was the simplest way,” said Alfric, “Although it did have some unforeseen problems.”

“Go on,” said Gibbs grimly.

“We do not know why but I believe that travelling in an aircraft may have caused problems with my calibration. It might be something akin to one’s ears popping when taking off …”

“And?” asked Gibbs.

“I am usually able to judge, and control, my body and this enables me to interact smoothly with humans but, on first arrival in this country, when I roused myself from my hibernation, I discovered that my sensors were off. I fear this caused Tony some unpleasantness,” said Alfric.

“He knocked my arm,” said Tony ruefully.

“The bruise that Ducky noticed?” Tony nodded. “And what about the furniture in your apartment?”

“How do you know about that?”

“We were worried, DiNozzo! I went to check.”

“Oh. Oh, OK. Well, yeah it was all part of the same thing really. Alfric sat down too hard on the bed and on the couch … and well, you saw the result.”

“And the cut? When you said you’d broken a glass?”

“I did break a glass! Well, actually it was Alfric who broke it.”

“I undertook to make Tony a mimosa for breakfast …”

“A virgin mimosa,” said Tony hastily, “It was a workday after all.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Gibbs sternly.

“Yes, a virgin mimosa but, unfortunately, my coordination was still off, and I squeezed the glass too hard and it shattered. Tony got a piece of glass in his hand when he was clearing up. And,” said Alfric sadly, “Did not allow enough time to bandage it properly.”

Gibbs frowned, “You know, considering that you’re a robot …” he held up a hand in excuse …” or whatever you are … you sound _human_. I mean, you sounded upset that Tony was hurt. How could a robot be upset?”

“I do not have experience of any other _robots_ ,” said Alfric, “But I believe that I was made to interact as easily and smoothly as possible with other life forms. I would conjecture that showing what appear to be emotions would be part of that process. Most people would find it easier to interact with a body that reacts to him or her on an emotional basis rather than being dealt with in a purely functional way.”

“But you don’t know?”

“I am sorry, could you rephrase your question?”

“You said that you conjecture that you were made in such and such a way – don’t you _know_?”

“I fear not. I have no memory of any existence before I walked into the laboratory belonging to the 3rd Earl. We could never find out how I arrived …”

“Emmanuel had people search the grounds,” said Tony, “But they couldn’t find any trace of any wreckage of a space craft … not that they’d have known that’s what they might be looking for.”

“And nobody ever came looking for you?”

“No.”

“There’s a remnant of an old standing stone circle nearby,” said Tony, “In his journal, Emmanuel speculated that had attracted Alfric in some way.”

“Huh. What was this about you being blue when you first showed up? And did you look _human_ … I mean, apart from being blue?”

“You make a good point, Gibbs. It would appear that I was constructed to be recognisable to humans. I had the requisite number of limbs and just one head and, while I have been able to learn all other languages at will, I arrived knowing English. Which, of course, made things a little easier.”

“What about the blue?” asked Gibbs.

“Ah well, I was not _actually_ blue but rather had had blue dye – woad – applied to my surface.”

“We think it was part of Alfric being prepped,” said Tony, “But the research was a little out of date. ancient Celts in the first century used to paint themselves with woad as part of getting ready to fight.”

“You know about ancient Celts?” asked Gibbs sceptically.

“Not as such,” admitted Tony, “But we’re all pretty much read up on Alfric’s background.”

“Doesn’t explain why you shot him,” said Gibbs deciding to ignore the enticing byways being offered by Alfric’s history in favour of getting to the nitty gritty of the situation, “Or why you haven’t even got a dent on you,” he said a little peevishly to Alfric.

“Ah,” said Alfric, “My body is made of something which is much tougher and more resilient than anything which has yet been made on this world.”

“And I’m guessing,” said Gibbs resignedly, “That you don’t know what that something is?”

“I fear not. But it was more than capable of withstanding the bullet fired from Tony’s gun.”

“It took you down though,” Gibbs pointed out.

“That is because it was a well-placed strategic shot,” praised Alfric.

“We went sightseeing,” intervened Tony, “We went …”

“To the Lincoln Memorial and the Smithsonian … I know,” said Gibbs.

“Wow, Abby was busy. Yeah, like you said and then we went to the Zoo. We thought that Alfric was back to normal although he had been a bit heavy-handed at the opera … but we were looking at …”

“The marmosets,” supplied Gibbs.

“ _Very_ busy. And something went wrong. I looked around to speak to Alfric and he’d gone. I looked everywhere – took me ages to get on his trail.”

“And you didn’t have your phone,” said Gibbs sternly.

“Yeah, I know. One of your Rule 3s, Boss. Phone was another casualty of the jet lag or whatever it was.”

“So, what happened at the zoo?” asked Gibbs.

“I fear I do not know, Gibbs. I have re-examined the moments leading up to my departure and the only unusual thing I noticed was there was a high-pitched sound from a bird or some other creature. I would conjecture that the sound was at a pitch I have never experienced before and triggered some sort of breakdown in my processing.”

“You never heard a bird before?” queried Gibbs.

“I did not say that, Gibbs. The area around Padding Park is extremely rich in wildlife and I am familiar with many types of animals and birds. Indeed, the Paddingtons are particularly proud of their _ostentation_ of peacocks.”

“That’s the word for a group of peacocks, Boss,” said Tony helpfully.

“I know. I do crosswords,” said Gibbs testily.

“My point is that I have experienced animal and bird noises before, but I am not familiar with all North American species or with those who might reside at the Zoo but not be native to the United States. But I have to confess that I do not understand what happened next or the precise sequence of events which led to me awaking in your kitchen, Gibbs. Perhaps you could enlighten both of us, Tony?”


	6. Chapter 6

“Well, I managed to catch up with you looking in the window of a pizza parlour in Homer Street,” said Tony, “Which was kinda odd …”

Something fell into place for Gibbs as he remembered the single plate in Tony’s kitchen, “’Cos you don’t need to eat!”

“Indeed,” agreed Alfric, “I am able to maintain the appearance of eating and drinking if it makes fitting into a social situation easier, but I do not require food and drink to maintain my body.”

Yet another enticing byway opened as Gibbs wondered what did fuel Alfric, but he stored that, along with much else, for another occasion, “Go on,” he ordered Tony, “What happened when you found him?”

“I tried talking to him, but he didn’t respond. And when I tried to get him to come with me to the car, he …” Tony simply pointed to the mark over his eye.

“I hit you?” asked Alfric.

“I think you held back,” said Tony brightly, “I mean, I didn’t hit the ground or anything.

“Nevertheless … I apologise, Tony. I can assure you that it was not …”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” said Tony dismissively, “Anyway, you walked off around the back and I followed you. By then I figured that I’d have to hit the emergency stop button to get out of there.”

“Emergency stop button?” queried Gibbs.

Tony grinned, “I remember when Great Uncle Clive told Crispian and me about it. It was a big deal because it was like a rite of passage. You know, showed that we were old enough to be responsible. He said that nobody could remember ever having to use it but that Alfric had told Emmanuel all those years before that he could be switched off if necessary. And that knowledge had been passed down through the centuries.”

“And where is this button?” asked Gibbs eyeing Alfric as if he liked the idea of knowing how to switch him off.

Alfric touched a position over his heart, “Here. It is about half an inch across. It needs to be depressed with great force to avoid it being activated in error.”

“I knew I wouldn’t be able to get close enough to touch it,” said Tony, “So I had to use my gun.”

“Good shot,” praised Gibbs.

“Indeed,” agreed Alfric, “And it had the desired effect. I wonder if my creators ever envisaged my being switched off in that manner?”

“What next?” asked Gibbs.

“Well, I spotted the security camera and took care of that. And then I was stuck. I managed to pick Alfric up and put him in my car. Luckily whatever he’s made of is light as well as strong but then I couldn’t think how I could get what looked like a body up all the stairs to my apartment. I didn’t know how long he’d be out of action – I thought I’d need to contact Crispian to see if he knew how I switched him back on.”

“So you thought my house was the best place to bring a body?” said Gibbs drily.

Tony thought for a moment, “Uh, yes. I guess I did. If I’d known Alfric would sort of _re-set_ himself I might have waited but …”

Gibbs nodded. He understood. His mind turned to what to do next,

“Is Alfric back to … normal?” he asked.

Alfric coughed, “I am here, Gibbs and able to answer for myself.”

Gibbs looked at him sceptically, but Tony spoke, “He’ll know. I’ve never known him not to be truthful.”

Gibbs shrugged, “OK, then. Are you back to normal?”

“I believe I am at the moment but, given recent events, I would not wish to guarantee that further anomalous events will not recur.”

“Any suggestions? You know about _recurring anomalous events_?” asked Gibbs drily.

“McGenius might be able to help,” suggested Tony, “You know, that biomedical engineering degree might be useful. And the Abby and Bishop brainiacs could chip in.”

“Huh,” said Gibbs, “They’d keep it secret … I’m guessing this needs to be kept secret?”

“The Paddingtons have always felt that my existence should not be widely advertised,” said Alfric.

Gibbs looked at Tony questioningly.

“To begin with people might have thought he was some sort of witch or warlock. He’s better now at passing for human but at the beginning we get the impression … well, not so much. And then there’s the technology – which we know nothing about – but which is pretty impressive. I mean, we don’t really understand what powers him; why he doesn’t wear out; why he’s so powerful … sorry, don’t mean to talk about you as if you’re not here, Alfric.”

“I understand completely, Tony,” said Alfric courteously.

“And nobody … in authority … knows that you exist?” asked Gibbs curiously, “Nobody’s ever let on?”

Tony coughed, “Well, Emmanuel’s son was Groom of the Stole …”

“The what of the what?” demanded Gibbs.

“It was a position in the royal household. Very important,” explained Tony, “Meant that Gabriel – that’s Emmanuel’s son – had the ear of the monarch. And he told George the Third that Alfric was living at Padding Park and the king gave him letters patent …” Tony paused, awaiting a question but Gibbs was almost at the limit of what he could absorb and stayed silent, “… which gave Alfric permission to be in the country, made him an honorary Englishman.”

“It was at that stage that my full name was settled on,” said Alfric, “And it was agreed that I should adopt the name of Paddington.”

“So, the British royal family know about you?” asked Gibbs.

“Well,” said Tony a little shiftily, “On some level … but we probably haven’t reminded them for a couple hundred years.”

“Ok,” said Gibbs briskly, “We need to keep this on the downlow because if Alfric’s existence becomes public knowledge he might become a target for …”

“Unscrupulous opportunists?” suggested Alfric.

“Not how I would’ve put it,” said Gibbs, “But close enough. Now, we need to get McGee and the others over here …”

But at the moment the three became aware of the voices of the other team members at Gibbs’ front door followed by the familiar sound of Abby’s platform booted feet drumming on the floor.

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs,” she cried, “Don’t be mad but … Tony, you’re here!” She flung herself at him, “Don’t worry, we can work something out,” she said, “There must be a reason … oh, you’re not dead!” she said as she recognised Alfric, “Oh, I’m so pleased.” She disentangled herself from Tony and threw herself at Alfric.

If Alfric’s default language was English it seemed another default setting was calm courtesy, “Good evening, it is a pleasure to meet you. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Alfric Paddington and I surmise that you are Miss Sciuto?”

“Yes, but you can call me Abby,” she turned and punched Tony on the arm, “Not nice, DiNozzo. Keeping your friend away from us. _And_ shooting him.”

Tony rubbed his arm and tried to think where to start.

“Abby,” said Gibbs, “We need you to lose the footage of Tony shooting Alfric.”

Abby shuffled her feet self-consciously, “Well, actually Gibbs … I kinda already did.”

“What are you all doing here anyway?” asked Gibbs deciding not to probe any further about Abby side-lining evidence in a potential murder.

“Abby called me. Told me what she’d seen on the camera,” said Tim, “Said she couldn’t sleep for worry.”

“And Tim called me,” said Bishop, “And we couldn’t think what to do.”

“So we thought we’d come see you,” said Abby brightly.

Tony was still rubbing his arm and felt a little vengeful, “How’d you know where the Boss was?”

“Oh … well … I kinda … Timmy pinged your phone,” said Abby.

“Hey, only because you nagged me!” protested Tim, “Boss, I’m sorry … really I am …” he trailed off into silence.

Gibbs stared at the new arrivals for a second or two in a way designed to show that he still had the upper hand before shrugging and saying, “Was about to call you anyway.”

“ _See_ ,” hissed Abby to Tim and Bishop, “I told you it would be all right.”

“Sit down,” ordered Gibbs, “You’ve got a lot to catch up with.”

“And it’s all top secret,” warned Tony.

Abby clasped her hands to her bosom, “So it is MI5 after all! Or is it MI6? I get confused.”

“MI5?” queried Tony.

“Wait and see,” said Gibbs, “DiNozzo, tell them.”

Abby, Ellie and Tim leaned forward eagerly from their seats on the couch.

“Everything?” asked Tony.

“Tell them enough,” said Gibbs a little unhelpfully.

Tony opened his mouth, Tim, Abby and Ellie leaned forward once more …

“Good evening, everyone,” said Ducky walking through Gibbs’ front door, “I learned of this gathering and decided that my presence would not be untoward but might even be of some use especially if young Anthony has been in the wars again. And indeed,” Ducky peered at Tony, “It would appear that he has been in another altercation. I will undertake to conduct an examination with all due expedition. But I must apologise for interrupting your conversation …” He turned to Alfric, “And may I introduce myself, Sir? You are not completely a stranger to me as I espied you in the distance at the opera the other night when we were both in the audience for _Das Rheingold_. Wagner is not one of my preferred composers, but I thought the performance was very fine although I’m not sure that _supertitles_ add to my enjoyment of the performance. But I still haven’t introduced myself, I’m Dr Donald Mallard and I am one of Anthony’s co-workers. May I …”

“Duck,” interrupted Gibbs, “You’re just in time.”

“Excellent! For what am I just in time, Jethro?”

“DiNozzo was about to fill everyone in on what’s been happening. And,” Gibbs raised a warning finger, “No questions. Let him tell you … questions at the end. DiNozzo, get going!”

Tony looked a little anxiously at the four sets of eyes trained eagerly on him, “OK, well this might take a while …”

NCISNCIS

“So that’s it,” said Tony sometime later. He reached for the glass of bourbon which Gibbs had thoughtfully topped up for him. He braced himself for the barrage of questions.

Gibbs suppressed a sigh as he also imagined the interrogation that was about to begin.

“Wow,” said Ellie.

“That’s so cool,” said Abby.

“So, I have a question,” said Tim.

“Go on,” said Tony who was flagging at the end of a trying day and could feel a headache forming over one eye.

“Perhaps I could answer Tim’s questions,” suggested Alfric.

“Sure, why not,” agreed Tony.

“So,” said Tim eagerly, “What does the rest of your name stand for?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, I’ve worked out the beginning – _Artificial Life Form –_ ALF, but what does the RIC stand for?”

“I do not believe it _stands_ for anything. The third earl had recently acquired a new stallion for stud and had toyed with the name of Alfric for the beast. In the end he decided upon Bouillon and, as the Alfric name was going spare, it was bestowed upon me.”

“But that’s dreadful,” said Abby.

“You think so? I always considered it a lucky escape that I was not named Bouillon.”

“But … you were named like a _possession_ ,” explained Ellie.

“Oh, oh I see but you have to remember that sensibilities were somewhat different in 18th century England to those of today. I suppose, in many ways and especially at the beginning of our acquaintance, Emmanuel did regard me as another acquisition. I like to think that attitudes changed when we became more familiar with each other.”

“Abby, the Paddingtons don’t think of Alfric as a possession _now_ ,” said Tony, “He’s part of the family.”

“Huh,” said Abby discontentedly. From the expression on her face it was as well that the 3rd Earl was safely dead and long buried thousands of miles away.

“So,” said the ever-practical Gibbs, “Do you think you can help Alfric? You know, check that he’s in full working order again?”

“It’s not something I’ve ever done … well, obviously,” said Tim, “Alfric is unique so nobody’s ever done it before. But I’ve done a lot of reading on automated lifeforms … I’m sure we can think of something. Hey, guys?”

Abby and Ellie nodded enthusiastically.

“OK, get on with it then,” ordered Gibbs.

“And I think I will stay and observe,” said Ducky, “… and perhaps offer the benefit of my opinion if needed. And, indeed, I look forward to hearing first-hand what it was like to live in the England of centuries ago. It is a shame that Alfric was not deposited in Scotland but …”

The four last arrivals clustered around Alfric who seemed unfazed by the sudden attention. Gibbs signalled to Tony with a jerk of his head that he should join him in the kitchen.

“You think he’ll be OK with them?” asked Tony a little anxiously as he peered back.

“Haven’t known your guy for long but he seems pretty resilient to me.”

“I guess,” Tony smiled.

“You’re fond of him, aren’t you?”

Tony smiled again, “Yes. Does that seem odd to you?”

Gibbs shrugged, “Not in a position to say … haven’t got any experience of having a 300-year-old robot in the family.”

“All the kids in the family loved him,” explained Tony, “He’s never impatient, always ready to answer your questions, never too tired to play … he was like the perfect grown-up.”

“Huh, we could all do with one of those,” conceded Gibbs.

“When my Mom died … you know, when I was 8 … Senior left me with – took me to stay with her family. Looking back, I can see that I was a sad little boy – missing Mom and left to stay with people I didn’t know too well. Alfric was great; didn’t mind me trailing along behind him. Didn’t mind that I kept on asking him the same questions over and over again. Didn’t react if I got mad at him or cried over him.”

“Did he have the answers?”

Tony frowned as he tried to remember, “No, I don’t think he did, but it didn’t really matter. What mattered was that I had someone who cared, who listened to me. I mean, the other Paddingtons were kind – and they tried but they were sad about Mom too. I guess I never forgot that … and I’ll always be there for him.”

“Why do you need to be there for him?” asked Gibbs, “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? No, course not … once McGenius gets to work,” replied Tony airily.

“Hmm,” said Gibbs suspiciously, “Hey, there’s something puzzling me.”

“Only one thing?” asked Tony mockingly, “Sorry, Boss … I quite understand. What’s puzzling you?”

“Well, I get why Alfric’s body wasn’t damaged but there wasn’t even a hole in his sweater. How did that work? Does his body stuff protect everything?”

“I wish,” said Tony bitterly.

“Huh?”

“No, there was a hole in his coat and shirt … I took them off and put my sweater on him. Didn’t want to be carting him around with bullet holes in him.”

“And your sweater fitted him? That’s … a coincidence …” Gibbs almost choked on the words.

“Not really. Alfric is a perfect match for me.”

Gibbs frowned as he pictured Alfric and realised that he and Tony were indeed the same height and build. “A perfect match? How come?”

“Well, Alfric can kinda _adjust_ his size. Not completely, you know. But he can make himself three inches shorter or taller … expand and contract his body … make his arms shorter or longer.”

“Why?”

Tony shrugged, “Add it to the list of don’t knows. But it means he can change his appearance, makes it a little less obvious that he hasn’t changed in centuries.”

“And he changed to be your size? Why?”

Tony grimaced, “Remember the packing case? There wasn’t a lot of room in it so the family couldn’t pack too many clothes for him so we decided he’d make himself my size and then he could share my clothes.”

“Good idea.”

“Well, yeah if you buy your clothes from Sears,” complained Tony.

Gibbs grinned as he realised that Tony apparently hated sharing clothes as much as he hated sharing food.

“It’s not funny,” protested Tony, “He ripped my Dolce & Gabbana shirt because he hadn’t worked out how much to contract himself … and now my new winter coat has a bullet hole in it …”

“Good thing you’ll always be there for him then,” said Gibbs blandly.

Tony gave Gibbs a dirty look but, before he could reply, he was interrupted by Ducky, “Ah, Anthony, I haven’t forgotten my pledge to look at the bruise …”

Tony squinted back at him.

“And, if I’m not mistaken my boy, I would say that you have a headache brewing. You are looking very peaked, you know. I think you are in need of a good rest.”

Gibbs found himself repenting of his teasing, “Why don’t you go and lie down, DiNozzo. Let Ducky take a look at you …” he saw Tony building up to a protest, “Won’t be any good to your buddy if you make yourself sick.”

Tony might have protested but the headache was getting bad and the thought of lying down somewhere peaceful where nobody asked him questions was very appealing. He gave in with a bad grace. As he dragged himself to his feet, it was probably as well that he didn’t see the amused look exchanged between Gibbs and Ducky. He allowed himself to be shepherded to Gibbs’ spare room.

Gibbs stayed where he was as he didn’t feel that he had much to contribute to a discussion about ‘fixing’ a robot. He allowed the hum of conversation to drift over him as he tried to make sense of the events of the last few days.

Alfric apparently had unending reserves of energy and patience and he answered all of the questions put to him by Abby, Bishop and McGee. Eventually their reserves of energy – and possibly, excitement – wore out and, one by one, they fell asleep on Gibbs’ couch.

Ducky seemed to sense that conversation was at an end and emerged from Tony’s room where he had been catching a few hundred winks. As he entered the kitchen, Alfric took his place in Tony’s room.


	7. Chapter 7

“So, Jethro,” asked Ducky as he began to make himself a pot of tea, “How is your gut?”

“How’s DiNozzo?” asked Gibbs, choosing to ignore the doctor’s question.

“He is … well, not fine but not in any danger. I have persuaded him both to take some migraine medication and to get some sleep. I think he will soon be restored to full health and vigour. But you didn’t answer my question. How is your gut, Jethro?”

Gibbs considered his answer, “I think Alfric is … trustworthy. My gut says that, and I’d trust DiNozzo’s gut to be right …”

“But?” asked Ducky sagaciously.

“But?” asked Gibbs innocently.

“But,” said Ducky firmly, “I know you too well, my friend. I know when a _but_ is lurking.”

“But … I don’t know,” said Gibbs with a frown, “There’s something we don’t know … and it might not matter but I …”

“Don’t like not to be in the know,” supplied Ducky.

Gibbs grinned, “Like you said. You know me too well,” he raised his coffee mug in salute.

“You know, my old bones want to be asleep in my own bed,” announced Ducky, “My days of embracing uncomfortable sleeping arrangements are, I regret to say, long past. So, I will leave you to drink the rest of my pot of tea and will wend my weary way home. Good night, Jethro. Feel free to phone me if you are in need of my advice but, please, wait another eight hours if at all possible!”

Gibbs smiled as Ducky bustled out, knowing that, if necessary, the doctor would cheerfully turn out again at whatever time Gibbs made the call. It was perhaps with that friendly feeling that Gibbs actually did pour himself a cup of Ducky’s tea: he didn’t tell many people, but he sometimes enjoyed tea especially if it had brewed by Ducky. As he took a sip, he became aware of murmured conversation coming from Tony’s room. Almost without realising it, he shifted position so he could both hear more easily and also see Alfric sitting stooped over Tony’s bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Lights are still flashing … bit like looking through a kaleidoscope … kinda pretty but wonky,” replied Tony groggily.

“I remember you being quite excited when you got your first migraine,” said Alfric.

“Yeah, until the headache kicked in.”

“I didn’t know you still got them.”

“Not so much. And Ducky has the good drugs,” said Tony a little dreamily.

“I’m guessing stress isn’t good for them?”

Tony huffed a laugh, “’fric, you’ve seen the job I do! If stress brought them on, I’d be permanently on the good stuff. No, it’s not stress … who knows what causes them? Although being hit in the face probably doesn’t help!”

“I’m sorry …”

“Not your fault,” said Tony dismissively, “Hey, did the wonderkids come up with anything?”

“They tried. Tim has got some friends working on automation – he thinks he can get them to share some of their protocols. Might be helpful in working out if there’s anything wrong.”

“Sounds good.”

“Possibly. Problem is I’m not sure if I need a scientist, a psychologist or a theologian.”

“Hey, we’ll work it out. What was it you used to say? We don’t have problems, we have opportunities … challenges!”

“Could do with a few less opportunities,” said Alfric wryly, “What’s the matter? Why are you smiling?”

“Oh, sorry. I was just thinking there must be a joke there somewhere. You know, three people in a bar; one’s a theologian, one’s a scientist and the other’s a psychologist … can’t get the punchline though.”

“I’d say that Dr Mallard’s _good drugs_ make you scatty.”

“People usually say loopy.”

“Same difference.”

“I guess. You’re not worried, are you, ‘fric?”

“How would I know?”

“You’re not feeling sorry for yourself, are you?”

“You think I’m capable of that?”

Before Tony could answer, Gibbs strode into the room, “What’s going on?”

“Boss?” asked Tony, squinting up at Gibbs.

“You’re speaking differently,” said Gibbs to Alfric, “Using contractions.”

“Which once upon we wouldn’t have known about,” observed Tony quizzically, “Until we had an Israeli ninja chick who was allergic to them.”

“You have the advantage of me,” said Alfric.

“And you’re calling him ‘fric,” said Gibbs accusingly.

“Not a crime,” protested Tony, “And I don’t always.”

“I think he does it to comfort me,” said Alfric unexpectedly, “When he first knew me, the whole name was difficult for him and it got shortened to ‘fric. I think he uses it to take us back to a time when things seemed simpler.”

“You got all that from me getting tongue-tied?” asked Tony guilelessly, “Don’t think I’m as clever as that … or as sensitive.”

“You still got your headache?” asked Gibbs.

“Um, yes. Why?”

“Just checking. If it had gone, I’d give you a head slap.”

“Oh. Why?”

“You know why.”

“I do?”

“Yes, you do. You know you don’t have to play the clown with me.”

“Oh.”

“You are good for him, Gibbs,” said Alfric approvingly.

“And I still remember that you were using contractions. Although you seem to have stopped again. What’s going on?”

“Let me ask you a question, Gibbs.”

“It’s usually me who does the interrogating.”

“Humour me.”

“Why should I do that?”

“Boss,” sighed Tony, “Let him ask the question.”

Gibbs felt like arguing but he saw that Tony thought it was important, so he nodded briskly.

“Thank you. Did you know your father?” Gibbs nodded. “Your grandfather?” Gibbs nodded again. “And I expect they told you stories of their grandfathers?”

“Sure. So what?”

“And you know what you are?”

“I’m been told that I’m lot of things. Not all complimentary.”

“You surprise me! And you know that one day you will die?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And what do you think will happen when you die?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do you believe in a life after death?”

“None of your damned business! What’s this got to do with you talking differently?”

“Forgive me, but you know that, as a human being, your life expectancy is limited. And you also know that many of your fellow humans have a belief system which includes the possibility of life after the demise of the human body?”

“Sure.”

“I have none of that knowledge, Gibbs. I do not know what I am.”

“What? Thought you were a robot … or whatever fancy name you’ve come up for what you are?”

“I most certainly reside in a body which has been manufactured but, as I have indicated before, I have no knowledge of any existence beforehand.”

“Well, hate to break it to you, but I don’t either,” said Gibbs, “I don’t remember a life _before_ I was born.”

“But you know that you are a human being. You know that you were born as a baby, that you grew to maturity and, one day, that you will cease to exist in the form you now know. I don’t know any of that.”

“You think you were once a baby robot?”

“No, Gibbs, I do not think that,” said Alfric wearily, “I believe that I have probably always existed in this … shell but I do not know why.”

“Excuse me?”

“Why was I sent to earth? What was the purpose? Are there others like me? Is it an accident that I do not know? Was my mind … my intellect … manufactured in the same way as my body or was it, in some way, planted there? Did my mind exist somewhere in a body something like a human body and was then extracted and placed in this shell? Like a hermit crab finding a new shell?”

“And you don’t know?” asked Gibbs.

“No, I do not know. I know that my mind has developed … changed over the centuries. Is that an accident of my programming … or an intention of my programming or is it just a normal part of what happens to a mind?”

Gibbs couldn’t think of an answer and just stared at Alfric.

“I think I heard Abby stirring,” said Alfric, “I will return and see if they have any further suggestions.” He nodded briefly and left the room.

Tony sighed, “Can you imagine what it would be like being completely unique? With no one like you around … nobody available to tell you what you are? Living so long that you outlive everyone you know … that you’ve come to care for?”

“You believe that? I mean, that he comes to care for people?”

Tony frowned, “I think he has a moral sense and yes, I think he has emotions of some sort, but he doesn’t know if they’re accidental or deliberate.”

“Hmm.”

“Gibbs, he’s lonely.”

“Huh. Is that why he’s come here? To be with you? To be less lonely?”

“He gets on with the Paddingtons,” protested Tony, “But it’s kinda quiet at Padding Park. And like he said, he’s been there 300 years. I think he wanted to come somewhere that perhaps he might be more occupied – where that enormous brain power could be distracted by new things rather than trying to work out who and what he is.”

“Yeah? And how d’you think that’s going so far?” asked Gibbs drily.

“Could be better,” admitted Tony struggling to keep a straight face, “But he wanted to experience an American Christmas, to see how he reacted to new situations and new people.”

“Well,” said Gibbs judiciously, as he heard renewed excited chatter from his living room, “At a guess I’d say that he’s made Christmas for those three!”

“Yeah,” said Tony with something like a groan as he rubbed his head, “Somehow I think I’ll be laying off the eggnog this year.”

“Get some sleep,” ordered Gibbs, “Things will look better in the morning … _I hope_ ,” he added softly as he saw Tony’s eyes slip shut.

NCISNCIS

Tony slept through the remainder of the night, but he was the only one in Gibbs’ house who did so. Alfric didn’t need to sleep and his three helpers were too reinvigorated to go to bed and Gibbs – well, Gibbs was too wired to sleep. He found himself both doubting Alfric’s story and being incredibly moved by it: it was not a combination conducive to slumber.

Gibbs cooked a late breakfast for his guests the next morning and was relieved to see that the NCIS personnel were still hopeful they could decide the issue of whether Alfric had been damaged by the flight to the US and the unusual stimulation to his senses. Gibbs thought it likely that Alfric hadn’t revealed his deeper anxieties.

Tony made an appearance at the breakfast table but restricted himself to tea and toast rather than the hearty meal the others demolished. McGee wiped his mouth and then stood to go,

“I’ll get in touch with my MIT buddies after the holiday.”

“Thank you for your help, Tim,” said Alfric.

“It’s a shame we can’t risk doing x-rays,” said Abby sadly, “It would be _so-o-o_ interesting to see what you look like inside but …”

“Who knows what damage it might do,” said Ellie earnestly.

“Thought you were being paid by the US government,” said Gibbs blandly.

“Excuse me?” asked Ellie.

“You heard me. Doesn’t look as if much work is getting done. The holiday doesn’t start till the end of the day. You’ve got time to do a few hours of work.”

Tim, Abby and Ellie took the hint and, after fond farewells and promises to return, eventually left.

“Well?” asked Gibbs.

Alfric didn’t pretend not to know what Gibbs was getting at, “They were very helpful. You know, Gibbs, I think I owe you an apology. And I know that you have a rule against them but, on this occasion, I feel I must offer one.”

“Go on then.”

“I think the malfunction which caused me to abscond and to strike Tony extended to my empathy network.”

“Excuse me?”

“My programming is designed to enable me to engage frictionlessly with those I encounter. I think it was malfunctioning yesterday and that led me to the fruitless philosophical meanderings I subjected you to.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. Your co-workers have been most insightful in directing me to some automatic readjustments and I am back on what I believe you would term _an even keel_. It is most satisfactory.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“So, I apologise for any _discomfort_ I may have subjected you to.”

“Well, yeah, those contractions were pretty painful to have to listen to!”

“Quite so. And now, I think I will clear away the breakfast things. I think washing your plates and glasses will be a good test that my fine motor skills are back up to speed!”

Alfric skilfully balanced the crockery along one arm and went into the kitchen. Gibbs took a thoughtful gulp of his coffee,

“You buy that?” he asked Tony.

“What?” asked Tony innocently.

“That he’s fine now. Not worried about who he is and where he came from?”

“Sure,” Tony turned wide eyes on Gibbs, “I mean it’s more likely than him being an emotionally disturbed robot, isn’t it?”

“Hmm. I figure your friend’s got more in common with you than size in pants.”

“Boss?”

“I reckon _he_ likes to wear masks too.”

Tony shrugged, “Thanks for letting us hang out yesterday,” he said, obviously hoping the subject of Alfric’s emotions was closed.

Gibbs gazed at Tony but decided to let things be for the moment, “You feeling better?” he asked.

“Kinda. Headache’s still there and … well, you know.”

“What are your plans now?”

“Guess we’ll go back to my place.”

“With no bed and half your furniture in pieces?”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot about that.”

“Be hard to get it fixed this time of year,” said Gibbs gruffly.

“I guess.”

“I’m heading into work now. Why don’t you and … Alfric hang out here. Stay over Christmas and I’ll come look and see if your furniture can be fixed.”

“Really?”

“Sure. I don’t have plans. I’ll swing by your place on the way home tonight and pick up some of your gear … you want me to bring the girls?”

Tony’s eyes went wide as he wondered what Gibbs was offering to provide, “What?”

“The goldfish!” snapped Gibbs, “Jeez, DiNozzo, what did you think I meant?”

“Oh, the fish!” said Tony in a voice which mixed relief and disappointment, “Yeah, that would be great. And I’ll teach Alfric how to make caramel popcorn. Have it waiting for you.”

“Get some rest,” ordered Gibbs, “Popcorn can wait.”

Tony looked disappointed at this downgrading of popcorn but nodded obediently enough.


	8. Chapter 8

Gibbs returned that night to the unfamiliar sight of his house blazing with light and warmth. As he opened his front door a mixture of appetising and enticing smells reached his nostrils and he heard music playing.

Tony heard the door opening and hurried forward to relieve Gibbs of the goldfish bowl.

“Hello, Katy … Ziva … did you miss me?” he cooed as he held the bowl to his chest, “We’ve got a special place for you in the kitchen.”

“Smells good,” Gibbs observed.

“Alfric read some cookery books,” explained Tony, “We’ve got traditional Italian food …”

“Thought he wanted to see a traditional American Christmas?” remembered Gibbs.

Tony waved a dismissive hand, “This is better – it’s Italian, well for Christmas Eve anyway. We’ve got salt cod salad and spaghetti with anchovies. And he made some frittelle – Italian doughnuts. And I made the popcorn.”

“OK.”

“And tomorrow we’re having a traditional British Christmas dinner. We’ve got chestnut soup, roast turkey, roast vegetables, sprouts, bread sauce, cranberry sauce, pigs in blankets, gravy, sherry trifle … oh, you didn’t have anything planned, did you?” he asked belatedly.

“Sounds fine to me. Sounds a lot …”

“Oh yeah, well, it turned out that the others have changed their Christmas plans,” confessed Tony, “They might be showing up as well.” He opened his arms wide, “It’ll be great. Alfric’s a fantastic cook and it will bring memories for him. He’s disappointed it was too late to make a Christmas pudding or a Christmas cake but he’s making a chocolate yule log …”

“You look better,” said Gibbs.

“Slept most of the day,” admitted Tony, “Alfric just got on with it. He found an on-line site which delivered everything and well …”

Gibbs took a look in his kitchen and realised that Tony had probably given just a bare outline of the treats in store for the next day.

“You did all this?” he asked Alfric.

“I have many memories of recipes in addition to those I researched for Tony’s Italian Christmas Eve,” replied Alfric in his customary calm way, “And it was a good test of whether my dexterity had returned.”

As everything was immaculately clean and tidy, Gibbs had to assume that all was indeed well in that regard.

NCISNCIS

Gibbs’ house the next day was one of contentment and accord. It turned out that having a 300-year-old robot designed to interact frictionlessly with other people and to cook to cordon bleu standards was a recipe for a happy Christmas.

Alfric was the perfect listener but, if conversation should flag, he knew enough about all the guests’ interests to be able to have an informed discussion with them. So, he discussed the history of tarot cards with Abby; the use of binary with Tim; new developments in muffins with Ellie; how to wear the kilt with Ducky and whether it was ever legitimate to use power tools with Gibbs. With Tony he could simply share his memories of Tony’s mom.

Tony followed Alfric into the kitchen to watch him mix a new cocktail he had devised,

“Thanks for all this,” he said with a gesture to the food and drink laid out in the kitchen.

Alfric looked around quickly to make sure Gibbs wasn’t in earshot, “It’s a pleasure.”

“Did you just _wink_?” asked Tony.

“Thought I’d try it out,” admitted Alfric, “What do you think?”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” hedged Tony, “Might take a bit of getting used to.”

Alfric nodded solemnly and put a measure of Grenadine in the shaker, “I thought I would call it the MTAC-ker,” he said, “It seems appropriate.”

“Sounds good,” said Tony.

“What sounds good?” asked Gibbs making one of his silent entries.

“Have a drink. It’s another of Alfric’s brainwaves,” Tony held out the glass to Gibbs.

Gibbs took the glass, but his suspicions remained; he was beginning to think that nothing was straightforward where Tony and Alfric were concerned. “What else has he had brainwaves about?”

Perhaps Tony should have waited until Gibbs had swallowed his drink, “He thought he could join NCIS … as a consultant.”

Alfric patted the choking Gibbs’ back gently – proving that he really was in full control of his body.

“Merry Christmas, Boss,” said Tony cheerfully, “Um, I’ll speak to you later. Come on, ‘fric! The others are waiting.”

Gibbs watched, through streaming eyes, as Tony and Alfric hurried away. He tried to imagine what it would be like to have Alfric as a Very Special Agent … but the vision blurred. He’d think about it later and perhaps, in the meantime, he’d have another MTAC-ker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas … and I've given the characters back to their owners.
> 
> And, now that the authors are revealed, I can also say a big thank you to scousemuz1k for being my beta.


End file.
